


For Broken Words

by for_t2



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Clone Wars, F/F, Fighting the Good Fight, Galactic Republic, Homesickness, Hope vs. Despair, Loss, Minor Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Politics, Pre-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, War is hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24986695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: Even the best have their crises of faith, or: a day in the life a senator, her handmaiden, and the galactic war that will consume them both
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Sabé
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	For Broken Words

Of all the things Sabé was losing during the Wars, her patience was one of the things she was missing most. A fact which, ironically, only wore her patience even thinner. “I’m not going to repeat myself. Get out.

“Sorry, sir.” The clone captain stared at her through the blank eyes of the helmet, tone a constant, plain evenness that made diplomacy nigh impossible. “Chancellor’s orders.”

“With all due respect, the Chancellor is not my concern.” Only one person was. Only one person had ever been, from the moment she signed up. “And we’ve already checked the Senator’s office. Twice.” And there wasn’t a single one of the Senator’s assistants, of her handmaidens, that didn’t know how to do their job.

“Chancellor’s orders, sir.” The captain shifted just slightly. “All bomb threats need to be verified.”

“Captain, Chancellor Palpatine values the Senator’s opinions.” Everyone with any sense did. Even if Sabé wasn’t sure Palpatine fit that label (or maybe the Wars had just made her even more overly cautious). “And the Senator does not appreciate soldiers in her office.”

“Chancellor’s orders.” Maybe clones could get annoyed. “Sir.”

“Her office is safe.” It had been ages since the first bomb threat, and Sabé had gotten into a strict habit of sweeping the office every single morning. “I personally guarantee it.”

“Sir, please step aside.”

“No.”

“Sir, I may be forced to—”

“Captain!” Her voice echoed loud and clear through the Senate corridor. Sabé couldn’t help but breath a small sigh of relief as she strode right up to them. “Is there a problem?”

“Another bomb threat, sir.” The clone didn’t flinch under Padmé’s almost-glare. “Chancellor’s orders are to sweep the building. As per protocol.”

“Sabé, are my offices safe?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Then,” Padmé put on her most diplomatic smile. “I think I have nothing to worry about.”

“But, sir—”

“Captain.” Padmé put her hand on Sabé’s shoulder before she could step between her and the trooper. “We don’t want to hold you up in your sweep.” The clone hesitated. “Thank you.”

By the time Sabé could close the office doors behind her, Padmé’s face was between her hands. “I’m sorry, my lady, I just—”

“Don’t.” Padmé shook her head. “Just… What’s next on my agenda?”

*

“Didn’t we do this yesterday?”

A handful of committee meetings later, a handful of votes, debates, interventions, hologram calls, and presentations later, Sabé didn’t blame Padmé. “The Eriaduan ambassador wants to revisit his decision. He feels that his planet’s contributions haven’t been adequately recognised. Yet.”

Despite all her royal training and all her well-deserved reputation as one of the best diplomats in the galaxy, Padmé let out the smallest groan. Years ago, Sabé might’ve called it cute. “What else do we have to give?” Years ago it would’ve been a remark that made the Senator’s smile light up. “We’ve already given them tax breaks, environmental cleanup assistance, more troops… We can’t give them another fleet!”

“We could transfer some droid manufactories to the planet.” It wasn’t much, but it might just get the ambassador to shut up for long enough to give Padmé a break. “It’d be closer to the front lines, but it does mean we’d be able to deploy our repair ships a lot quicker.”

“Oh, that’s going to make some boardrooms very unhappy.”

“It was just a suggestion, Senator.”

“I know. And it was a good one.” For a moment, just outside the conference room door, the formality that stood between broke, and Padmé’s fingers just lightly brushed hers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sabé.”

A formality that sometimes Sabé had no choice but to reinforce. “It’s what I’m here for, my lady.”

As the conference room door slid shut, leaving Padmé in another meeting and Sabé alone in the busy corridor, Sabé had to call on every bit of strength from her royal training to bite back a scream. It wasn’t fair that Padmé had to push herself so far. It wasn’t fair that Sabé had to make decisions for her. It wasn’t fair that the Republic was tearing itself apart and everything Padmé had fought for was… 

It just wasn’t fair.

* 

“The Senator is not sleeping with the Grand Emissary of Catadra.”

“Technically,” the galaxy’s slimiest excuse for a journalist laced her appendages together. “Our article didn’t say that they were sleeping.”

“Their relationship is entirely professional.” The Emissary was lovely person, and very, very devout. “There’s a galactic war going on. Don’t you have anything better to investigate?” Investigate with the heaviest of sarcastic quotation marks (and when a Royal Handmaiden of Naboo uses sarcastic quotation marks, it is the most royal sarcasm).

“The Republic’s voters have a right to know what may be influencing their senators’ decision-making, my dear.” To be fair, the level of corruption in the Senate that was an open secret was just the tip of the iceberg (and that was just of what Sabé had managed to find out so far). But if there was one senator and just one senator alone who was incorruptible, everyone knew it was Senator Amidala. “Especially when it’s a senator who’s very close to our beloved Chancellor.”

“She’s not sleeping with the Chancellor either!”

“Are you sure?”

Something inside Sabé snapped. “Oh, for frak’s—”

“Is this on the record?”

“I’ll tell what’s on the record.” Sabé enunciated the words very carefully. “What’s on the record is…”

“Yes?”

“Is if I see any of the void slugs you like to call reporters anywhere near the Senator’s apartment again, I will personally remind you exactly how good a handmaiden’s training is.”

The editor’s five eyes blinked. “Say…” And their voice took on a tone that was far too juicy. “You and the Senator aren’t—”

Sabé cut the call right there.

* 

“Just imagine.” Sabé waved her fork dramatically to make the point. “A cozy little cottage in the southern fjords, on the edge of the ocean, with the waves and lush green and vibrant flowers and beaches so pristine you could spend all day on them.”

“I guess that sounds nice,” Padmé mumbled between mouthfuls of the quickest take-out Ellé had been able to find before the senate’s brutally short lunch recess.

“Imagine,” Sabé continued. “The beaches. Digging for seashells in the sand. Building sandcastles. Running in the sand.”

“Stop it.”

“Having a picnic in the sand.” Smiles were a rare thing in the Senator’s office and had been for a while (for what seemed like forever). “Relaxing on the sand. Feeling the sand flow between your toes…”

“Stop it!” The most un-royal giggle escaped Padmé’s mouth. Giggles that multiplied the moment one snuck out of Sabé. “He was trying his best. And, for the record, I think that’s very romantic.”

“Ah yes, the Jedi are famous for their romantic wiles.” But despite the good-natured exaggerated eye roll, there was a part inside of Sabé that twisted in a deep uncomfortable way she didn’t want to put words to. Most of the smiles that happened these days came from one person – a dashing Jedi with an air of destiny about him.

“Some Jedi can be—” Padmé was cut off mid-sentence by the beep. “Oh no, not another emergency vote.” She shoved the food aside and gathered up her files. “Don’t let me stop you from finishing your lunch, Sabé. You deserve it.”

“Padmé?” The senator stopped just before reaching the door. If smiles were rare, it was even rarer for Sabé to use anything but the formal. “Just, please. Consider it. It’d be easy to arrange. And it doesn’t have to be Naboo.” It would be Naboo, but the option was there. “It could be anywhere in the galaxy. Anywhere you want.”

“Thank you, Sabé, but—”

“Padmé.” It was even rarer for a handmaiden to interrupt her queen. “The Republic can’t keep going like this. If we keep losing battles, if anything happens…” But the bond between a queen and her handmaidens was stronger than any other on Naboo. “I deserve to know you’re alive.”

For a moment, Padmé silently tapped her fingers against the wall. “The Republic has stood for a thousand years. Democracy has stood for a thousand years, and it will stand for another thousand. Nothing’s going to happen because I won’t let it happen.”

From the moment she first bowed before a young girl just days away from coronation, from the moment she first saw that fire burning with such powerful passion, with such beauty, Sabé knew that the oath she swore was more than just an oath. And she knew that she would never regret following her.

Even if it meant following the galaxy to hell.

* 

“That can’t be right.”

“Unfortunately, we’re spread thin.” The Jedi stayed perfectly still in her meditation. “Please tell the Senator we apologise for delay.”

When Senate intelligence said one thing and Jedi intelligence said the exact opposite, choosing which to trust was a delicate game. “Of course, Master Ti. And the Senator would like to apologise again for not being able to meet you in person.”

“No offence is taken.” Especially when it’s blindingly obvious to everyone outside the Temple that Jedi Order was hopelessly out of its depth and hopelessly in need of an overhaul (it really was a shame, Sabé thought, that Anakin was the Chosen One for the Force and for Padmé – they could’ve been great friends). “We know the Senator’s extremely busy.”

“As are you.” Sabé gave the Jedi master a short bow. “Thank you for your time.”

“Sabé?”

“Yes?”

“You can tell the Senator that Master Kenobi will be returning from his mission soon.” A classified mission, which, despite Sabé’s best efforts, she hadn’t been able to crack. “He’ll no doubt have information that the Senator will be happy to see.”

There was a time when it was the handmaidens (and just maybe Sabé in particular) that Padmé used to talk about the future with. But now… “No doubt.”

*

A handmaiden’s duty was to be neither seen nor heard, not a part of background but a part of the Queen herself. A duty that Sabé was finding increasingly difficult to adhere to as the gang of hard conservative senators surrounded them.

“It’s not a matter of surrender.” Being a part of the Queen herself meant that Sabé knew exactly when Padmé’s voice was rising, as soft and imperceptible as that rise may be. “But if we want the Wars to end peacefully, we will need to negotiate. We will need to reform.”

“The Republic does not negotiate with terrorists. Only traitors do.”

“The Republic has a long tradition of diplomacy.” Sabé inched just a little closer to Padmé. “One of our core values, even. Am I wrong?”

“Senator Amidala,” the other senators chuckled. “Not all of us have the same constraints as the Grand Army or the Jedi Order. And the population of the Republic is clamouring for the Senate to take whatever measures are necessary to bring back order.” The lead of the gang moved a little closer to Padmé. “No matter who—”

“Enough!” Sabé knew she made a mistake the moment she stepped between Padmé and the gang. “If you threaten her again—”

“Sabé.” Padmé’s voice cut through her with a knife of pure calm. “Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

“But—”

The slight nod, the slight shift in her fingers, sent a signal that Sabé hadn’t seen since her training. That she hadn’t ever seen Padmé use. A signal that Padmé had once said she would never have to use because she knew that they would never let her down. “Of course, my lady.”

And Sabé had sworn she never would.

* 

Naboo and Coruscant were two planets both teeming with life in opposite ways. Naboo had the vast forests and oceans, Coruscant had the crowds and lights that filled every bit of space imaginable. And, gods, did Sabé miss Naboo. She missed the openness, the freshness, the… she missed home.

So, of course, the only think she could think about doing was to lose herself in the life of Coruscant. And, sure, the top aide to one of the highest profile members of the Galactic Senate probably shouldn’t be wandering around the grimy streets of the Coruscant underworld, but… 

It had been a long time since she had last cried.

She had cried, of course, after the Wars had started and everything started going wrong. When the first assassination attempt hit and Dormé… When Eritaé had disappeared during the mission to the Pyke Syndicate. When Saché and Rabé had been all but forced to retire after asking Padmé for her blessing in marriage (the thought of losing them when their lives were just starting was a loss Padmé wasn’t willing to accept). When… 

At some point, it felt like Sabé forgot how to cry.

Padmé didn’t. Somehow, every new loss managed to hit her just as badly as the last. It was amazing how she still managed to stand so strong, how she still managed to feel so fearlessly, how she… 

Shit.

Sabé knew she had it so bad, and it had been so long since she knew what to do about it, and so long since she remembered how to help Padmé, and it was all going to shit and…

It was all going to shit.

“Shit!”

It said something about this planet that the crowds around her barely parted when she screamed. And it said something else that all she could see through the parted crowd was more shops and clubs and bars and shops and…

And shops.

* 

The moment Sabé stepped through the doors to Padmé’s apartment she found the senator’s arms wrapped around her. “My lady?”

“I’m sorry.” Padmé’s arms clung tightly around her, and damned if Sabé didn’t slowly wraps hers around the senator. “I didn’t mean to be mad at you.”

“I was out of line, my lady.”

“No.” Padmé withdrew just a little. “None of the my lady crap. It’s just me Sabé. And we’re… And I need someone I can talk to.”

“Of course, my… Padmé. Um.” Sabé dug into her pocket. Pulled out a tiny trinket she had found at some (probably illegal) little street stall. “I got this for you.”

“Oh, Sabé.” It was just some cheap replica of a Naboon water sphere (a dreadfully inaccurate replica), but it was close enough. It was almost home. “It’s…” The weirdest laugh snorted out of Padmé’s mouth. “It’s really bad.” A laugh that quickly dissolved into tears.

“Hey.” Sabé steered her towards the couch. “Hey. Padmé.”

For a while, all she could do was rub Padmé’s hair as she cried into her shoulder. Until the tears faded. “What if…” Until she looked up, eyes bloodshot, at Sabé. “What if they’re right? What if the Republic is, if our democracy is…”

“We’ll fight for it.”

“We…” Padmé pulled Sabé’s hand towards her. Traced it across her cheek. Her jaw. Down, around the most sensitive skin of her neck. “Stop me.” She pulled Sabé towards her. “Just one more time.” Towards her lips.

* 

When the sun trickled through the blinds to wake her up, the first thing Sabé noticed was the emptiness beside her on the bed.

“Padmé?”

The silence echoing through the room. And the note on the table.

> _Dearest,_
> 
> _CIS ships spotted near Coruscant. Possible attack. Emergency meeting. Anakin coming to help. Stay home. Clone troopers guarding apartment. Please, stay safe._
> 
> _I deserve to see you alive too._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Padmé_

There was something about the rushed precision of the pen strokes, just lightly broken by emotions words couldn’t describe, about the love, that just broke Sabé.

And, alone in Padmé’s sheets, she cried.


End file.
